It was time for Cory and Tower to head out to the Diamond Casino. Cas had given them specific questions to ask, and to whom. He could have gone himself, but it was too risky —his court trial had been aired, and that would spark suspicions. Cory and Tower weren't always seen with him; they were the safest choice.
Cas and the two men stood in front of Janet's house. A black McLaren 720S sat beside them—one of Cas's cars, parked for a quick escape if things went sideways.
When Cory and Tower finally drove off, Cas clenched his jaw. Janet's house felt too full. Cole hovered around her like a personal watchdog, if not for the state ties binding him now, Cas might have sent the man home with a black eye and a broken rib.
The evening breeze brushed his face, carrying the memory of that kiss at the gun range. Janet's lips—soft, clean, tasting faintly like candy. Her breathy little whimpers haunted him, replaying like a loop he couldn't shut off. He wanted to press further but not in there. Not under the cameras. He made sure the spot was clear — no eyes, no recordings before he kissed her.
He'd read her perfectly, torn between wanting more and scolding him. She'd only whispered his name right afterward, shot the last two bullets then endured a quiet drive back home.
When they arrived, she avoided his gaze and slipped inside. He didn't care.
Janet was simply too tempting — and from the kiss, addictive too. The jealousy burning in his gut whenever Cole was near her— only confirmed how much he wanted her. Her reaction during the kiss told him enough about what he said. He smirked to himself. He wasn't done with her. Not yet.
He missed Jack. Jack would've laughed if Cas told him how much this woman was crawling under his skin. They'd have shared pizza, laughed, and argued about her like until the early hours. Jack was the only one who ever really understood him. They'd fought, bled, and survived together. Jack might have been older, but Cas had always felt responsible for him.
With others, Cas was ruthless. With Jack he was human. Some part of him still wanted to believe his brother hadn't meant it— that he'd been compelled. Deep down, all Cas wanted was to see him again.
**
Janet tried to listen as Cole went talked, chest puffed, recounting how he'd "single-handedly" taken down a criminal who held five hostages…or was it four?
Her mind wasn't there. It circled back to Cas. That man was more unpredictable than she'd thought. The memory of the kiss still burned. She'd missed it the second it ended — ached for him to take it further. Maybe she'd imagined it all. Maybe he wasn't even interested.
"It's crazy how these Criminals can be so unhinged," Cole said proudly, adjusting his collar. "But we—the police—do our job despite the odds."
Janet smiled at him and stretched into a fake yawn, sneaking a glance at the clock.
"Oh, look at that. Didn't realize it was this late already."
Cole shrugged "I don't mind. I'm just… not comfortable leaving you with that man. I don't trust him. Especially around you."
"You shouldn't be worried about that," Janet replied softly. "Cas wouldn't hurt me."
Cole's gaze hardened, suspicion flickering into jealousy. "You seem to trust him."
"It's not tha…" she started, but Cas walked in cutting her short.
Both turned toward him. Cas didn't look their way—just strolled past and into the guest room, shutting the door behind him.
Eventually, Cole left. Janet swept the living room, clearing the clutter left behind by the earlier crowd. When the floor was bare again, she found herself outside Cas's door, knuckles brushing it lightly.
"May I come in?"
The door opened almost at once, Cas's head poking out.
"Hey."
Janet's stomach fluttered. She held up the broom and duster clumsily, a weak excuse. "I thought maybe your room could use a little cleaning."
"I'll take that." His voice was flat as he reached for the cleaning tools. "You should go get some rest. It's been a busy day."
She nodded, retreating as the door closed behind her. For a moment she stood in the quiet, the rejection settling heavier than she wanted to admit. He wasn't going to mention the kiss. Maybe he never would.
Fine. She'd act like it never happened, too.
**
"This is a ridiculous plan," Mirabel said flatly, arms crossed. Cas read the impatience on her face and only shrugged. "It sounds that way but it's guaranteed."
The next day, his men, Janet, Mirabel, and her crew gathered in the living room. Kratos and Amira had reported nothing suspicious at the Diamond Casino during the day—too normal, almost empty.
Cory and Tower, however, had news. A regular at the club, a drunk who had gotten friendly with them had let something slip.
"On Saturday nights," Cory said, "three or four small figures get brought in. Bodies hidden under black robes. They go straight into the VVIP."
"He couldn't tell if they were kids," Tower added. "And he was stopped from going through a door that led further down—an underground place, he thought. Not sure if it's part of the casino."
They'd also charmed a waitress, enough to keep her talking, if they played it right.
Cas proposed infiltration.
"Logic says surround the place," Mirabel said. "I'm certain the kids will be in the underground— whatever's located there."
"It wasn't confirmed that its location is under the casino," Cas replied. "Some 'underground' areas are just exits to another area. It'll take some time to search the club, defend, just in case they put up a fight…Just enough time for whoever's down there to escape."
Janet nodded. "Infiltrate."
Cole rolled his eyes.
"So who's going in and as what?" Mirabel asked.
"Actually, it's better if you go, Mirabel." Cas leaned forward. "You're a detective. Playing a spy won't be new to you."
Mirabel looked uneasy. Cas watched her—if she was a detective, she should be able to control her body language under pressure. Janet's face gave away her displeasure too; Mirabel was her sister.
"Too dangerous for just her?" Janet asked.
"She won't be alone," Cas turned to Cole, "Detective Cole would go with her."
"I disagree," Cole snapped. " We need people outside monitoring the situation— especially the criminals we're working with."
Cas fixed Cole with a hard stare. "If you're investigating, getting closer to the suspect is the best start. You already have Janet and another detective nearby. Three of my boys will also be in the crowd as regulars to back the plan. Why investigate me, when you should be investigating the situation?" His gaze slid to Janet. "Or is there another reason?" He read the anger ready to explode on her face—he'd nudged at it on purpose.
"Ok, enough." Mirabel cut in. "How do we get in? I'm sure a lot of the staff looks familiar."
"The waiting staff maybe," Kratos said. "Cleaning staff are from an agency the casino hires."
"So we go in as cleaners?" Cole asked.
Cas smiled, "That's where you come in. Your hacker team will compromise the cleaning agency's email so Diamond messages don't get through. From their mails, we can forge IDs."
"Couldn't we just ask them?" Janet said.
"That's risky," Mirabel said. "You don't know how close the agency and the casino are."
Cas smirked. "You're catching on, detective."
"And cleaners have freedom that most staff don't. In a Casino like Diamond, trash isn't the only thing they haul away. Sometimes, it's blood."
He watched the small shift in Janet's posture when he said the word—an involuntary bouncing from her chest—and felt a private, guilty thrill. She looked stunning in her jean shorts that revealed curvy legs and beautiful skin.
Mirabel decided to go to the station with Cole to get the hackers started and the IDs forged.
Cas turned to Max behind the other. "Get one of their security. Take him to the hotel and drill him for some extra information—especially about Jack."
"Yes, boss."
He told Kratos to lie low during the day and go back at night with Cory and Tower to watch the main room. The house thinned as everyone left; it was just Cas and Janet now.
She must have assumed they'd do weapons again—she'd already slipped into her shoes.
**
Janet eyed Cas. He didn't look like he was dressed to go anywhere. His gray singlet clung to his torso. His blue trousers were simple and expensive.
He looked at her with a faint, amused expression.
"I still want to learn how to shoot," Janet said. "Yesterday's training wasn't bad. I guess I need more than court talk."
Cas glanced around. "Today's hand-to-hand."
Her face scrunched. "Not sure I can get through that with you."
"You'd be surprised," His eyes slid over.
She felt a flutter, equal parts nerves and something else—anticipation?
They stepped into her yard and kicked off their shoes, standing six feet apart. Cas rolled his shoulders as if readying for a match. Janet, a little unsure of what to do, did a weak square up.
"What are we doing now?" She asked.
"Pick up the gun." He nodded to the grass.
There was a gun? She blinked, then saw it and picked it up, puzzled.
"You're going to aim it at me and pull the trigger the second I move," he said.
"I'm not shooting you." She snapped.
"It's not loaded, baby." He rolled his eyes. She blushed at the pet name and assumed the stance they'd practiced.
Cas moved before she could react, grabbing her from behind. His arm slid around her neck—firm, controlled; not enough to hurt. She felt his body press against hers, his breath at her ear, then he let her go. She gasped.
"You're dead before you know it," he murmured.
"Can't blame me for thinking guns weren't useless." She said, masking the adrenaline.
"In certain situations," he said, "They're for emergencies. A prey running away, or a fool running toward you from a distance after clearly observing you aiming."
She covered her mouth to muffle her laugh.
Cas softened. "You shouldn't cover it. Your laugh is one of the most captivating things about you."
Her smile froze. He didn't give her time to absorb it, he stepped back, squared up, and said in a firmer voice, still gentle, "Eyes on me. This is real life, not a moving cardboard cutout. One eye on the gun, one eye on me. The second I move you pull. No hesitation. Got it?"
Janet swallowed and nodded. This was the reason why she didn't want to practice hand-to-hand. Why couldn't she just shoot from a distance? Wasn't that why guns were invented? She assumed her stance again, aiming the gun at Cas.
He moved again, slipped behind her, and flipped her over in a practiced motion, pinning her hands above her head. Their faces hovered inches apart, and her lower body was trapped between his legs. She struggled to catch her breath, trying to process how everything had happened so fast. She tried to break his stare and the proximity with a hiss.
"Cas. No."
She refused to let him kiss her again— only to have him pretend it never happened afterwards.
He released her and stood. She got up on her own, slapping away the hand he offered, hoping to mask the flash of disappointment that came when he let go. He smiled, telling her without words that he'd noticed.
She aimed the gun at him with fierce concentration.
He grinned, flashing his perfect pearly whites, then he squared up, rolling his shoulders as he settled into position.
"You ready?" he asked.
She nodded, focusing on him—the man who infuriated and aroused the hell out of her at the same time.
The second he moved, she pulled the trigger. He stayed still and applauded.
"Good one, Janet," he said.
She relaxed into a shrug.
"What have you noticed so far? Cas asked, "Janet." His voice was low and taunting.
"That you're a jerk " The answer came out sharp; it was honest.
Cas laughed. "I'll take that. But here's something else: Your defense skills are always tied to anger. And anger—" he stepped closer, eyes fixed on her. "Anger amplifies focus. Channel it—the right kind of fury makes brute force smarter."
**
They practiced movement after movement. He shouted not-too-loud instructions. "I'll come from behind. Hit the groin with your calf, then the face with the back of your elbow." They ran the sequence slowly, then faster.
When he grabbed her from behind again, she struck him with the elbow and drove her calf into his groin.
She struck him with the back of her elbow, then drove her calf into his groin. He staggered back with a grunt and—authentic or not—gave her a thumbs-up.
"Yes." She whispered fiercely.
"Atta girl," he said, and for a moment the praise and the tension between them hung in the summer air like something neither of them would dare name.